


when you're alone with me

by useyourtelescope



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Dream Sex, F/M, Light Angst, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-26 20:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30111381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourtelescope/pseuds/useyourtelescope
Summary: Six years had passed since Miss Clarke Griffin's debut into society without her finding a match, so she was irritated but not surprised when her mother suggested an arranged marriage.She was still doubtful before meeting Mr. Bellamy Blake, but he soon surpassed Clarke's expectations and she realised she could easily picture herself as his wife.There was just one problem—and it was not annoyance that her mother had found her a better match than Clarke had been able to find for herself.She had started having her soulmate dreams.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 85
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	when you're alone with me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheatreSteph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheatreSteph/gifts).



> This was written as part of **T100 Writers for BLM** \- thank you to TheatreSteph who donated to the **Tides Foundation Black Lives Matter Support Fund** and prompted 'historical au arranged marrage + soulmates + dream sex'. I'm sorry it took me so long to finish this, I really hope you like it!
> 
> Thank you to Juliet23 for looking at an early section of this and andromedabennet for reading over the final work. <3

“Do you like that?” his deep voice whispered in her ear.

“Yes,” Clarke managed on a shaky breath. Her lips parted in anticipation as his rough hand ran up her thigh. Her bed sheets were tangled around them, but Clarke didn’t notice, all she could feel was the heat of his bare skin as it surrounded hers. 

She could feel his smile pressing against her neck before he resumed peppering wet kisses on her skin while his hand inched higher. She opened her legs for him instinctively, his fingers finding her folds easily. He had barely touched her, his kisses fleeting and his caresses feather-light, but it had been enough to make her wet already. He always knew just how to excite her with even the briefest of touches.

“Or what about this?” His lips moved lower now, down to her collarbone and he sucked on the skin there. Her desire increased as he circled a thumb around her centre, though he stopped short of giving her the pressure she really needed.

“More,” Clarke insisted, putting her hand over his, wanting him to stop teasing her.

“Clarke?”

“Please, I need—”

“Clarke, is everything alright?”

Clarke blinked, abruptly drawn back to her true surroundings by the confusion in Mr. Blake’s voice. 

Far from being tangled together in her bed, she and Mr. Blake were standing opposite each other in a milliners—both perfectly turned out in the proper attire for a day’s shopping, of course.

Though she suspected her undergarments were no longer dry.

“You look a little out of sorts,” he noted, starting to frown.

“Sorry, I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head. “What did you say?”

“I was just asking which of these you liked best?” he explained, raising his hands so she could see he held a bonnet in each. “I can’t decide between these two.”

Clarke did her best to smile at the reminder. He had asked her the day before if she would accompany him to make some purchases that his sister had requested he send from London, admitting with an endearingly sheepish countenance that he hadn’t any understanding of what was in fashion and would like her advice. Clarke had been happy to agree, certain that she could judge what a fifteen-year-old girl might think pretty, but her judgement was bound to fail if she kept daydreaming about her companion.

“The red ribbon,” she said decisively, purposely taking the other hat away from him in a way that meant she avoided touching his hand. She was wearing gloves, but if mere commonplace words could return her to the dreams that had been plaguing her the last few weeks, it was best not to take any risks.

“From how you and Mr. Kane have described your sister, I think the colours will suit her very well,” she continued.

Mr. Blake smiled, twirling the chosen hat in his large hands, forcing Clarke to avert her gaze when the motion reminded her of how she had imagined those hands moving against her skin. “The red ribbon it is. Thank you for your assistance, Miss Griffin.”

“My pleasure,” Clarke replied, trying to pretend that her cheeks didn’t heat up as soon as the latter word had left her lips.

Luckily, he didn’t notice and took the bonnet to the shop till.

Clarke stared at his retreating back—his strong, broad back and shoulders that she longed to touch—and sighed.

Mr. Bellamy Blake was the man Miss Clarke Griffin was supposed to marry.

It wasn’t formal yet, but everything had been arranged between her mother and Mr. Kane. Clarke had refused four marriage proposals already and at three and twenty, Abigail Griffin had started to worry that her daughter would end up on the shelf so she had practically jumped at the opportunity presented to her by her old friend Mr. Marcus Kane. He had just returned to London after his latest visit to Gloucestershire and when he mentioned he was looking for a suitable wife for his ward’s older brother, Abby had been immediately taken by the idea of making a match between them. 

Mr. Blake was not of the rank Abby had once aspired her daughter to achieve, but as six seasons had passed since Clarke had made her debut she had long given up hope of Clarke marrying even a mere Baron. As far as Mrs. Griffin was concerned, her daughter only needed to marry someone respectable for her to consider her duty as being complete. The property that Mr. Blake owned did not have a long family history as it had been purchased by his father, but it was a decently-sized estate, in a part of the country that Abby was quite fond of. Most importantly, she considered a recommendation from Mr. Kane very highly indeed and Marcus had informed Abby that he thought Bellamy would make an excellent match for her daughter. 

When her mother had informed Clarke of the proposal, she had been annoyed though not altogether surprised. The hopes of falling in love that she had cherished at her debut had long faded, and, whatever her mother believed, Clarke was by no means “stubbornly set against getting married and having children”. She only wished to have a husband she could respect and she knew she would have grown bored, maybe even resentful, of the four men that had offered her marriage in her early seasons.

Abby was not about to force Clarke into marriage, but she was too concerned that Clarke was not doing enough to find a husband to sit back idly and let her daughter become a spinster. Even Clarke was aware that some of the ton had started to label her difficult after her multiple refusals, and after this season drew to a close she knew she would find it increasingly difficult to find a suitable partner at the age of four and twenty.

Still, Clarke was not about to agree to marriage with someone she had never met, no matter how highly Mr. Kane thought of him, and so mother and daughter had agreed that Clarke would have six weeks to spend becoming acquainted with Mr. Blake. If at the end of that time both of them were pleased with each other, they would marry.

There was a childish part of Clarke that had hoped she would not like someone her mother chose, but those thoughts were soon dispelled two weeks after their agreement when she came face to face with Mr. Blake for the first time. 

Bellamy Blake was handsome and charming—smart, but not full of self-importance, and with a dry sense of humour that easily matched Clarke’s. Although their opinions sometimes clashed in their first conversation, he did not immediately change tack and agree with her, as had so many men who had tried to court her in the past. Instead, he had been more than willing to debate his position with her, and far from being annoyed by this challenging discussion, Clarke felt somewhat invigorated when he left.

She did not have to look over at her mother, who had been quietly chaperoning from the other side of the drawing-room, to know Abby was smiling at her apparent success.

There was just one problem that Clarke had not been able to admit—and it was not annoyance that her mother had found her a better match than Clarke had been able to find for herself.

The problem was that he was not her soulmate.

Soulmates were not rare exactly, but not everyone had one—and those that did were not always successful in learning their identity. Clarke had started to think she might fall into the former category, but three nights before Clarke’s first meeting with Mr. Blake she had received her first dream. 

Her mother had blushed when she had tried to explain soulmate dreams to Clarke as she had prepared for her debut in society. Clarke had heard whispers about them before that of course, but she hadn’t really understood it—not that Abby’s explanation had given her the full story either. Her mother had said that the vision of one's soulmate came to them at night after their first meeting, but that their face wasn’t fully revealed to them until they became better acquainted with them. In the meantime, they would have these “pleasing, sensual dreams” every night until they saw their soulmate’s face.

After Clarke woke up from her first dream tingling all over and on the brink of climax she considered Abby’s description to be something of an understatement. 

She knew some ladies that had already had their dreams had been unprepared for the erotic nature of the vision—that they hadn’t known what to do with these new sensations—but that was not the case for Clarke. Her virtue was technically still intact, but she had been long prepared for the marriage bed thanks to her private friendships with a few discreet women in years past. She normally made use of her knowledge at night before bed, but after the dreams started Clarke had needed to touch herself in the morning to achieve the release she had been denied in her dream.

From what she had previously learned from her few friends who had soulmates—or who were willing to discuss the matter, that was—it was normal not to reach one’s peak during the dreams. Now that she had experienced this denial first-hand Clarke considered this highly unfair, given she was going to have such a dream every night until she learned her soulmate's identity, but it wasn’t as if she knew who to complain to.

She would have been more excited to know she had a soulmate if she had felt certain she had a strong chance of finding them, but Clarke feared that would not be the case. 

Her best friend Wells had been lucky enough to receive his first dream when they were on a visit to his father’s country seat, on a day when he had seen only people he already knew except two new faces. He had immediately sought their better acquaintance the next day and in less than a week, he had seen the face of his soulmate in his dream and a month later he had been married. 

Clarke, on the other hand, had received her first dream on a day when she had been driving in Hyde Park, an all too popular destination. She had gone with Wells and his now-wife Sasha and had made the acquaintance of some of Sasha’s friends for the first time, but there had been so many other people there, it was impossible to say who might have been her soulmate. 

She had decided not to tell her mother yet, and it would have been rude to cancel the meeting with Mr. Blake when he and Mr. Kane had made arrangements specifically so he could spend time in London to become acquainted with her. Besides, it wasn’t as if she knew who her soulmate was yet. There were, after all, people who never learned their soulmates' true identity—supposedly a rare occurrence out of those who had the dreams, but Clarke imagined there were many who wouldn’t admit it. Furthermore—and at the moment this had seemed the most important point to Clarke—she hadn’t expected to truly want to marry someone her mother had picked.

But then she had to go and _like_ Mr. Blake, which made everything so much more complicated.

And Clarke did not think she was flattering herself when she thought he liked her too. 

Not necessarily in a romantic sense—for all his charm, he never acted as if he liked her more than a friend. But though only half of their agreed time to consider the arrangement had passed she imagined he would be happy to marry her at the end of it. He seemed to like her company and conversation, and there was, of course, her thirty thousand pounds.

Clarke had always sworn she wouldn’t marry a man who had been purposely waiting to find a rich wife—one of her initial objections when Abby had first explained that Mr. Kane had wanted to find some prospective brides for Mr. Blake who would improve his circumstances—but she had come to learn that Mr. Blake had not been fortune-hunting. 

There was a difference, after all, with a gentleman who had been waiting to find a wife who would improve his fortune or status than one who had been too preoccupied with taking care of his younger sister and their ailing (now, sadly deceased) mother to go looking for one.

The Blakes had been left well off after their father passed away, but Mrs. Aurora Blake’s long illness had eaten up a significant portion of their remaining funds and if the late Mr. Blake had not had the foresight to name his old friend Mr. Kane as Miss Octavia Blake’s guardian rather than her brother, they might have been in a much worse situation.

All of which was to say that in his financial situation, Clarke was certain that Mr. Blake liked her more than enough to secure her as his wife and if not for the knowledge that she had a soulmate, she would have felt keen, perhaps even excited, at the prospect of marrying him. 

But she did know and that made everything so much more complicated.

It was a strange concept that she was predestined to be with someone. She knew some people who had thought it romantic. She had certainly thought so when she learned as a child that her parents had been soulmates—though once she was old enough to know how they had come by that information she tried not to think about it too much. Jake Griffin had passed away when she was nineteen, but Clarke had seen how he and Abby had been happy together. There were her friends who had found their soulmates too: Wells and Sasha seemed completely in love with one another, as did Monty and Harper.

But Clarke still found the idea of it somewhat odd, especially the fact that you only learned of your soulmate bond through dreams. 

When she started having the dreams, however—well, it was still a little odd. But despite not reaching her peak during the titillating visions, she still felt strangely fulfilled by them. It wasn’t just the physical desire that she experienced, she could also feel an emotional need for that person, a desire to just be close to them. 

During the day, the more time she spent with Bellamy Blake, the more she thought that he was the perfect candidate to be her husband. But then at night, she dreamed of the one she was perfectly bonded with and woke up unsure of what to do all over again.

As if that hadn’t been complicated enough, she’d then had to go and start daydreaming about her visions, with Mr. Blake cast in the starring role of her mystery soulmate.

That was a more recent occurrence, which she blamed entirely on the ball held by Lady Diyoza. It was the first ball she had attended with Mr. Blake and at first, she couldn’t help but notice that he had seemed a little stiff, lacking his usual charm in social situations. They had spent time together in company before, but those had been at dinner parties, and his manners had never been lacking there. 

She was not sure if her concern was plain, but when they found themselves alone by the refreshment table he had quietly admitted that he was slightly nervous about his first London ball—in particular the dancing. 

He had previously mentioned that he liked to dance so this was a surprise until he explained that he was only proficient in country dances and was concerned that his rudimentary understanding of the newer, more fashionable dances performed in London would be apparent and embarrass not only himself but her as well. After all, being so heartened by how well Clarke and Mr. Blake had been getting on together, Abigail Griffin had informed the whole of her acquaintance of their courtship even before he had been widely introduced, so that his name had been linked to Clarke’s from his first public appearance. Mr. Blake had said, in response to Clarke’s apologies, that he assumed this was a result of Abby’s eagerness to see the match come to fruition, but Clarke believed this was also her mother’s way of warning other matchmaking mamas away from trying to foist their single daughters onto Mr. Blake. 

Clarke had been quick to reassure Mr. Blake that he need not be concerned for either of their sakes that evening. For one thing, she knew their host was fond of country dances so there would be plenty of opportunities for him to dance while still avoiding the ones he did not know well. Furthermore, she rather imagined a young handsome man willing to dance most of the night would always be welcome, even if he was not fully up to par with his steps. 

Noticing the continued tight set of his lips, she even revealed some of her own nerves from when she had first been presented in society. It was perhaps not a significant revelation that a girl of seventeen felt nervous on making her debut, no matter how respected her family, but having a mother like Abigail Griffin meant that Clarke had never been comfortable admitting to nerves or weakness of any kind and she could see from his softened smile that Mr. Blake appreciated her willingness to be open with him.

That smile played on her heart somewhat and in an effort to ignore the strange fluttery feeling it gave her, she reverted their conversation to his original concern: dancing. However, she went too far in her continued reassurances when she offered to accompany him in the waltz if he wanted to be sure of a congenial partner. 

She did not realise her mistake until his smile turned into more of a smirk and he noted, “I did not realise that in London ladies could ask gentlemen to dance.”

Clarke flushed slightly, glad that they were in a darker corner of the candle-lit ballroom. “Well, no I did not mean—you do not have to—”

He took pity on her, his smile softening once more, “Of course I wish to dance with you, Miss Griffin.”

“Yes,” she said, taken off-guard by his plain confirmation. “That is, I thought we might since your acquaintance is still limited in London—Oh, I should introduce you to some friends,” she added, rallying and taking a step forward until he stopped her by gently placing a gloved hand over hers.

“I should be glad to make the acquaintance of your friends, but may I fill out your dance card first?”

“Yes, of course,” Clarke said, offering him her card.

“I believe that I am allowed to ask you to stand up with me for two dances,” he said, taking the card gently between his hands, causing Clarke to note not for the first time how much larger they were than her own.

Clarke confirmed this, adding, “That is, some people do dance more often but it is frowned upon.”

He nodded. “Well, as you say I have a limited acquaintance here, but I know that is not the case for you. If you prefer we only dance once, so you can—”

“No,” Clarke interrupted, perhaps a little too quickly. “I would be very happy to stand up with you for two dances, Mr. Blake,” she said more evenly.

He smiled, no hint of teasing in it. “A country dance and the waltz, perhaps? Then you can caution me if I make any missteps.”

“I am sure that will not be necessary,” she assured him, but still agreed to dance those two.

He had not quite finished entering his name on her dance card when they were found by Mrs. Vera Kane. Marcus Kane’s mother was a gentle, kindly old lady who Clarke was normally happy to talk to at a social occasion such as this since she was one of the few matrons who did not go out of their way to comment on Clarke’s unmarried status. However, her presence tonight initially gave Clarke some disappointment, arriving as she did to take Mr. Blake with her to introduce him to some of _her_ friends. 

He glanced at Clarke searchingly when Mrs. Kane made this known, but she immediately smiled so that he knew she did not mind when he inevitably let himself be led away by the lady. Clarke suspected he would have more to discuss with Wells or Monty or one of the other friends she had been planning to introduce him to, but given he was in London as the guest of Mrs. Kane’s son, it was only right that he showed deference to Vera’s request.

Besides, as Clarke watched them walk away, Mr. Blake having to bend down somewhat to hear what Mrs. Kane was saying, she thought that perhaps it was best they spent a little time apart so that she might better guard herself against being so susceptible to Mr. Blake’s handsome smiles before the dancing.

She managed to make a few introductions before the dancing began, by which time Clarke felt more like herself. Their first was the country dance, which required them to dance in groups of four and as she swung between Mr. Blake, Monty and Harper, Clarke enjoyed herself hugely but never felt any danger of losing her head or her heart. 

She could not claim the same after their second dance.

When they came together again for the waltz, Clarke’s first thought was that his concerns were unfounded, for he was clearly a natural dancer and far more graceful than she believed herself to be. But soon she was not thinking of his grace, but his touch. She had always thought the complaints against the introduction of the waltz into polite society to be a load of old-fashioned, fustian nonsense, but that evening she was palpably aware of the nearness the close hold of the waltz required—it seemed to Clarke that if she inhaled too deeply her chest might brush against his, and the thought was more exciting than alarming. 

Furthermore, Mr. Blake was not his usual conversational self during the waltz. They had not spoken greatly during the country dance either, but that was explained by the constant changing of partners that dance had required, not allowing room for easy discourse. Still, he had uttered amusing comments to her whenever there had been opportunity—now there was plenty of opportunity, but he was largely silent. He smiled certainly, but his countenance was indecipherable. He almost held a look of wistfulness about him, but that she could not comprehend why he had cause to look at her in such a way and it was hard to set her mind to the task of understanding him when the heat of his hands seemed to be seeping through the silk of her gown and gloves and into the very fibre of her being. 

The only time any touch had affected her so was in her recent soulmate dreams—and recalling the sensual pleasure that those held was hardly helping matters.

“I believe you were exaggerating when you told me you were not competent in the waltz,” Clarke said to break the strange silence, a lilt of amusement in her voice. “You are a fine dancer, Mr. Blake.” 

“You are too kind,” he replied easily, “but I suspect having the right partner makes it easy.”

Clarke nodded, but replied, “I am not sure many would agree with you that _I_ suit that description—” 

She was about to tell him that while she knew her dancing to be proficient, it was far from elegant, but he interrupted, almost thoughtlessly, “I beg to differ—and for more than dancing, besides.”

Neither slowed in their steps, but his words affected a change in them both. Clarke was understandably shocked, for this was the most overt attempt at courtship Mr. Blake had made, but she was surprised that he too looked shocked by his own statement. 

He offered no explanation either, and though they returned to polite, albeit sometimes stilted, conversation for the remainder of the dance, Clarke could not but think of him for the rest of the night right until she settled into bed.

Of late, even if she had managed to put her soulmate from her mind in the evening, she inevitably thought of them before she settled into bed; that evening, however, she thought only of Mr. Blake as she pulled the covers around herself.

Perhaps it was no surprise then that the next morning when she woke on the brink of release and touched herself that Clarke’s memories of the dream morphed into Bellamy’s hands touching her and caressing her skin. 

She felt guilty afterwards, but as it was her most satisfying release since perhaps the morning after the very first dream, it was hard to feel too guilty. Not until she saw him the following day and recalled the delicate nature of their situation.

If she had expected him to make any further attempts at courtship she was mistaken. It was confusing that he would not, but she was also glad of it given she did not yet know how she should answer a proposal when she knew her soul was bonded to another. 

He did have a question for her that visit, but it was only to ask that she accompany him to make some purchases for his sister—a perfectly innocent request that had ultimately led to her first daydreaming incident at the milliner’s.

Clarke tried to keep herself in check subsequently and though she could not help but sometimes think of his deep voice and dark eyes late at night when she was alone, she was making a valiant effort not to have such vivid daydreams about him.

But, alas, it happened again only a week later. 

It was not a day she had planned to meet with Mr. Blake, but they had crossed paths while she was out making calls and he had offered to walk part of the way with her. Clarke acquiesced and took his offered arm, trying to ignore the way she liked his musky scent and how the overhanging flowering trees that lined the street provided more of a romantic atmosphere than most London pavements.

Clarke’s maid let the couple walk quite a few steps ahead before resuming her steps, but it would not have mattered if she were within hearing distance, for Mr. Blake was as proper as ever in his conversation.

After he had asked after her mother and her day thus far, he mentioned, “You will be pleased to know that Octavia was very pleased with your choices the other day.”

“Oh, has she sent word?” 

“Yes. She made it clear in her letter that even if I had not written to say that you had helped me she would have been able to tell I had some assistance for I could not have made such fine purchases by myself—and that is verbatim.”

Clarke laughed at the resigned countenance on Mr. Blake’s face, but she also felt pleased that Miss Blake should appreciate her taste. After all, if she did marry Mr. Blake, the girl would become her sister and Clarke might have to help her prepare for her debut in a few years. 

But it was not an uncomplicated thought when she still had her soulmate on her mind, so Clarke put that from her mind and said easily, “I am very glad that I could be of help.” 

“If I can ever return the favour—not with clothing, I’m afraid,” he corrected, laughing, “but if I can ever be of service to you, you must inform me.”

His generous, innocent words could not but transform themselves in her mind, especially since he said them with such a wide smile, drawing her attention to his full lips.

The area in which she most required his service heated and suddenly Clarke imagined Mr. Blake on his knees, his head underneath her skirts as he thoroughly assisted her with a recurrent problem.

She inhaled sharply and had to close her eyes momentarily against the image. 

“Thank you, I—I shall remember that.” She thought she had managed her response adequately, but distracted as she was, Clarke did not notice when she stepped onto a twig. The branch cracked under her foot, so she did not trip fully, but she tipped forward enough to alert her companion and Mr. Blake’s hands darted out to steady her.

“Are you alright?” 

She couldn’t observe his countenance, shaded as it was by the rim of her bonnet when her head faced the ground, but she could hear his concern in his voice, feel the strong grip of the hand that had flown to her back. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “It was my fault, I was just not looking where I was going.”

He did not let go of her and Clarke slowly raised her head, knowing it was best he step away in such a public location, even if she did not entirely want him to.

“See, I am fine,” she said. She managed a tight smile, acutely aware that the places he touched her were still hot even through the layers of her dress and spencer.

He dropped his hands, but his eyes searched her countenance carefully. “You have something on your face.”

“Oh?” Clarke said, lifting a gloved hand to her cheek instinctively.

“I think it is pollen.”

That was understandable, for the wind had picked up somewhat since the morning. Clarke moved to retrieve her handkerchief when Mr. Blake reached into his pocket and removed one of his.

She paused with her hand in her reticule at the sight and he hesitated at the same time with his hand outstretched.

“May I?” he asked, finally.

Clarke nodded slightly, reasoning with herself that as he could see her face it made more sense that he be the one to clear it. 

When he reached out only the soft fabric touched her skin, but seeing his calloused fingers so close to her cheek, she recalled the memory of how her soulmate’s hand had caressed her cheek so lovingly in her dream last night. It was so easy to imagine Bellamy’s hand as that hand, and to picture it following the same path her soulmate had—grazing her cheek first and then down her neck, stopping at her shoulders to massage the tension from there for a moment before tracing the neckline of her dress with the rough pads of his fingers, back and forth over the tops of her breasts until she finally cried out for more and he dipped his whole hand under her corset to cup her breast, freeing both from its confines so he could play with her nipples, bringing his mouth down to—

“All clean now.”

It took Clarke much longer this time to find her voice again. “Thank you,” she said, before coughing to clear her now dried throat.

“Not at all. Shall we?” Bellamy said, offering her his arm again.

She nodded shakily before taking it, doing her best to think only of putting one foot in front of the other as they resumed their walk. 

Clarke had always thought that the worst possible outcome of having a soulmate was that you might meet your soulmate at a ball or some other crowded place and never discover who the figure in your dreams was.

But now that she had found herself in such a situation she did not think it would be so terrible for that to be her fate so long as she had Bellamy by her side in her waking hours. 

She still sometimes felt slightly guilty that she replayed the dreams during the day and imagined it was Bellamy making love to her, but she reasoned with herself that it was only natural she should imagine a man she knew and found attractive—a man she was practically engaged to, no less—than some shadowy figure who knew just how to touch her, but whose face always remained just out of reach.

The guilt that she could not so easily reason away was her utter lack of effort at finding her soulmate since Mr. Blake had walked into her life—her mother’s drawing-room to be exact.

She had initially written to Wells the day after that fateful drive in Hyde Park and suggested she might like to spend more time with him and Sasha’s friends. However, when she received an invite from Sasha to take a day trip with them and her friends, a group that included two of the men she had been introduced to that day, Clarke had sent her regrets, citing a prior engagement with Mr. Blake.

She certainly did have an engagement with him, but it was only for a walk in town, and she was certain that Wells and Sasha would have extended the invitation to Mr. Blake if she had made plain that was an option—but she had not done so, nor had she even mentioned the trip to him.

But whether she had done that because she had not wanted Mr. Blake to make the acquaintance of Sasha’s pretty, eligible and wealthy friends, or because she had not wanted to risk discovering her soulmate and shatter her illusion of a happy future with Bellamy, Clarke could not be sure. 

What she was certain of was that neither option shone her in a very good light.

She eventually decided that she had to ask Mr. Blake his stance on soulmates.

It was a subject couples brought together in an arranged marriage were often hesitant to discuss since there was always the chance that someone might cry off if they started having their dreams while they were betrothed. Of course, finding your soulmate after marriage happened too and could cause complications; she had wondered abstractly before as to what couples did if that happened if they met secretly with their soulmate or came to some sort of arrangement with their spouse, but now that situation was a very real possibility for Clarke.

She didn’t think that she was ready to tell Mr. Blake that just yet, but she could broach the subject and see where it took them. After all, she knew why _she_ had mostly avoided the topic in their conversations about the future, but she didn’t know why he had done the same.

The next time she saw him was at a dinner party hosted by Mr. Kane, but though there were many pointed looks in their direction whenever they were stood by one another, they were never given enough privacy for Clarke to feel comfortable raising such a delicate topic.

However, when he came to call on her the next day, she was hopeful of finding an opportunity. They started trading pleasant greetings over the tea tray with her mother seated by her side, but less than five minutes after Mr. Blake had sat down, Abby recalled something she needed to say to their cook and left the room.

“How did you enjoy our company yesterday evening? Now my mother has left us, you can tell me your real answer,” Clarke said, prompting a smile from Mr. Blake. It was that wide smile where he dipped his head slightly that she liked so much—perhaps too much as it stalled her heart momentarily even without evoking any remembrances of her dreams.

“I admit I am surprised she has left us so soon,” he said conspiratorially. “I thought London’s mamas would want their charges to be fully chaperoned at all times.”

“Oh, she was not so lax in my first few seasons, I assure you,” Clarke informed him with a wry smile. “But now she believes I am growing advanced in my years, she is not too proud to resort to tactics.”

“Tactics?” he repeated, plainly amused. “We still have more than a week, I believe, before you have to give your mother your answer.” 

“True, but she might think—” Clarke had started in good humour, but hesitated when an indelicate thought flew into her head. And while she would not have hesitated in sharing it with Mr. Blake if she was not having the dreams, the regularity with which she had begun to daydream about him in particular, did give her pause.

However, as she had started speaking he looked at her expectantly and she was forced to clarify, “I suspect she might think that if we are left alone for long enough we might find ourselves in a _situation_ that might require a hasty wedding...the procuring of a special license even.”

“Oh. I see.” His words lacked the joviality that they had held before and his eyes darkened and flickered over her form before looking away. 

With the heat of his gaze suddenly burnt into her, Clarke was certain—he might not love her yet, but he did want her even if he behaved with perfect propriety. It was not something she took for granted for Clarke had known many gentlemen who were very easy with their hands and sometimes lips. Indeed, Clarke herself was usually much freer with her kisses than a lady was supposed to be, but something had held her back with Mr. Blake. 

She supposed it was partly the confusion in her mind with his arrival so swiftly following the commencement of her soulmate dreams. But then it had also been the way she had enjoyed his conversation and hadn’t wanted to turn their budding friendship into a dalliance that could so easily be nothing—as all her past dalliances had been before. 

And when she had started to conflate her visions with reality and imagine Bellamy touching her in the way her soulmate did in her dreams? Well, that was dangerous enough already—she did not dare to imagine what that might feel like if she knew what his kiss felt like.

“Mr. Blake, may I ask you a question?” Clarke said suddenly. It was perhaps not the best time for asking how he felt about soulmates, but there likely would never be an ideal moment to mention to one’s intended betrothed that you knew your soul was bonded to another. 

His gaze turned back to her from the window and he looked perplexed, which she supposed was unsurprising. She did not normally request to pose a question, she just did so. “Yes, I apologise, I did not answer your question about the dinner party,” he said.

She cut him off before he could continue, for she had forgotten about that herself. “Oh, never mind. There was something else I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

“What do you think about soulmates?”

His expression tightened then in such a manner that she thought it could not mean anything good.

Finally, he said, “It is not a subject matter in which I am well-versed.”

But this was far from enough to satisfy Clarke. “But you must know about them?” she pressed.

“Yes. That is, a little.”

“And you must have an opinion?” When he made no immediate reply, she said, “Surely the one thing neither of us lacks is opinions.”

This made him laugh, as she knew it would, and it was unfortunate just how happy that made her.

He considered for a moment before admitting, “No one in my family has ever had one.”

“No one at all?” Clarke said, surprise turning her attention away from her original intention in raising the topic. It was unlikely that every member of one family would have a soulmate, but for his entire family to have none seemed unfair.

Mr. Blake shook his head. “No. My family is small, and...there are sides we weren’t well acquainted with, so perhaps some did and we didn’t know, but none that we were close to. We heard stories, but—it was hard to imagine that a soulmate might be in my future, knowing that.”

“Yes of course. But your parents—they were still happy together although they were not soulmates?” she asked. The thought made her more hopeful that it could be the same for her and Bellamy, even though it would not be the same for them when she already knew she was bonded to another. 

Though, she supposed if either of his parents had been in the same situation as Clarke, it wasn’t likely they would reveal it to their child.

Bellamy’s prolonged hesitation finally turned Clarke away from her own worries. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You talk often of your sister, but little of your parents, I wondered—never mind. Forgive me for asking such an intrusive question.”

“No, it was a perfectly natural question,” he said. “It is I who am sorry, I—“ Bellamy sighed and then stopped short before abruptly rising from his seat. She watched with a frown as he stalked to the window and stared into the garden for a long moment before turning to face her. “Clarke, I must tell you something,” he said, a serious look on his face. 

“Yes?”

His lips twisted. “I think too highly of you to—if we are to be married I feel that you should know the truth.”

“What is it?” Clarke asked, rising so she could stand nearer him. The tension in his voice made her long to reach out and offer some comfort, but she suspected that he needed to unburden himself before he would accept any. 

He looked at her plainly, his countenance full of determination. “My father, he was—he was a truly excellent man. But he was not my father by blood.”

Clarke blinked in surprise. She didn’t know what she had imagined, but it was not this. “What do you mean?”

She watched his neck as he swallowed slowly before continuing, “When my mother was very young she fell in love with a sailor who came to her town. Her parents did not approve, as he was a second son and had no inheritance. However, my mother believed they would relent once he earned his fortune at sea and as she fully expected him to become her husband in the future, she allowed him certain liberties—well. He died in a shipwreck before she realised she was pregnant.”

Clarke let out an involuntary gasp. “And her reputation would have been ruined if anyone discovered.” 

Bellamy nodded. “She revealed her condition to an old friend who agreed to marry her so she could have the baby in wedlock.”

“And you were that baby?” she said softly.

He nodded again. “In time their friendship turned into love and they had Octavia, but as I grew up it became plain to many people in the town that I increasingly resembled a sailor they had all met and who had been very fond of my mother.”

Clarke sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. “Is that how you learned the truth?”

“We moved before I was old enough to truly understand the whispers, but eventually my mother told me anyway.” 

Clarke nodded, unsure of how to respond to the revelation. “That must have been hard—to know you never knew your father,” she said finally, thinking wistfully of her beloved father.

He softened then and shook his head. “Perhaps it might have been difficult had he chosen to leave her, but it was not his fault that he was not with us, and I had a wonderful father who never treated me any differently than he did Octavia.”

Clarke smiled. “I am glad. But, I must ask—why did you feel you must tell me? I can’t imagine it is something you share with everyone.” 

“No, it is not. Marcus made it clear that your mother would not consider me a good match for you if she was aware of my situation. I did not think anything of it because I have kept it secret from my friends and—well, the truth is I didn’t expect that I would like you. I knew I had to marry and was happy to be led by Marcus’ choice. I thought I only needed a wife I would feel comfortable to live with but then…”

He trailed off and Clarke felt her stomach swoop as he looked at her with the plainest emotion she had seen in his eyes.

“But then I discovered that you are truly the finest woman of my acquaintance and I would never forgive myself if I tricked you into marriage.”

Clarke’s lips parted soundlessly. “You would not have been tricking me,” was all she managed to say, her voice a little hoarse as her ears rung with the words ‘ _the finest woman’_ on repeat.

“Your mother would never allow it.”

“No,” Clarke said slowly. “She would not. But I care nothing for that. You are to marry me, not her and I—“ Clarke stopped herself. 

She had been about to say that she would not be deterred from their marriage, but the truth was she still had a soulmate. She longed to run into Bellamy’s arms and claim nothing could stop her from marrying him, but at night when she dreamed she wanted nothing more than to be with her soulmate always. How could both be true?

She took a deep breath before meeting his more hopeful gaze and saying, “I am very grateful that you would trust me with your secret and I promise I will never reveal it, regardless of whether we become married. And I assure you the question of your birth has no bearing on my decision.”

She could not imagine it was how he hoped she would end her statement, but he did not look deflated. He smiled widely, saying, “Thank you, Clarke—Miss Griffin, I—“

“No,” Clarke said, shaking her head. “Clarke is fine.”

“Then, you must call me Bellamy.”

“Of course.”

They both gazed at each other intently before Bellamy looked over his shoulder towards the door at the sound of her mother’s voice in the distance.

“I think I might take my leave of you before your mother returns,” he said, a little reluctantly.

“Yes, perhaps that would be best,” she agreed. They would not be able to talk freely and she did not have it in her to make pleasantries now.

“Thank you again, Clarke,” he said, taking her hand between his.

It was not the first time he had kissed her hand before taking his leave, but it was the first time he lingered, his lips searing into her bare skin and igniting her more vividly than any dream.

When Clarke went to bed she did so lying on her side, with the back of that hand pressed against her cheek on the pillow.

Her dream that night started just the same as the others—beginning in the middle of everything, she and her soulmate completely bare to one another, tangled in Clarke’s bedsheets as they shared alternately soft and passionate kisses. Clarke loved the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress as his large hands touched her skin. He always mapped the planes of her body lazily to begin with before becoming more focused, lingering over her breasts and then between her legs. 

But though the actions in the dream were now familiar to Clarke, tonight she started to notice more details—the way his fingers were calloused as they played with her nipples, the slight scratch from an unshaven face on her thigh when he kissed her centre.

There was rarely much light in her soulmate dreams, the flickers of candlelight helping to keep her soulmate’s face from her, but tonight the candles shone brighter and made his taut, bronzed skin glow. 

She inhaled his musky scent as she kissed his neck, writhing underneath his ministrations, and her palms traveled up his strong back until his velvety curls were draped around her fingers.

He raised his head and she finally saw his face gazing down at her, lustful and tender all at once, his focus all entirely on her as if she was the entire world and there was nothing else but the moment between the two of them. 

“Bellamy?” she whispered.

“I’m here,” he whispered back, his fingers insistent between her legs. “Come for me, Clarke.”

“Bellamy!” Clarke gasped as she bolted upright in her bed, awaking with a start. 

Bellamy had been her soulmate all along, she realised as she shivered and clutched her bed sheets tightly around herself.

But how?

Clarke went through the morning in something of a daze. As she hadn’t told her mother that she had been having the dreams at all she didn’t know how to start now. Besides, her mother would only be happy, certain that Clarke and Bellamy must marry at once.

And, of course, part of Clarke that was happy too. But they had only talked of soulmates the day before and he had spoken as if he was so sure that he did not have one. Surely he could not have sounded so certain if he was having the dreams as well?

Clarke had always assumed that soulmate bonds were reciprocal—that if you were someone’s soulmate that meant they were yours too. Was it possible that she might be Bellamy’s soulmate, but he didn’t have one? Or that, as much as he doubted it, there was another out there waiting for him?

There was only one way she could be satisfied—she had to speak to him, and it certainly couldn’t wait until their planned meeting the following day.

Clarke sent a note after breakfast to Mr. Kane’s house asking Bellamy if he might visit her, saying the sooner he came the better.

Thankfully her mother had a prior engagement that morning and her thoughts were so disordered it did not take much effort for Clarke to feign a headache and excuse herself.

It probably only took him an hour and a half after she sent her missive to arrive but Clarke spent the whole time in such agitation that it felt like much longer. She was pacing the drawing-room when he was shown in and though she managed a polite greeting for the sake of their butler, as soon as he had closed the door behind Bellamy she dropped her careful countenance and searched his face for any sign that she might learn the truth simply from staring at him.

For his part, Bellamy stared at her with some concern. “Is everything alright, Clarke? Your note sounded urgent. Are you well? Your mother—”

“You were in Hyde Park!” she interrupted.

“What?” he asked, confused. Clearly, it was not the outburst he had been expecting. “No, I had just come back from Bond Street when your message arrived and—”

“Not today!” Clarke exclaimed, frowning. “You said you only came to London two days before we met.”

“No,” he said, his tone somewhat changed. “I never said that.”

Clarke’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I had meant to come then,” he explained, “but I was able to arrive earlier. I came to London almost a week before our first meeting.”

“Why did you not say?”

“You never asked.”

Clarke stared at his simple explanation but realised that he was telling the truth. She had asked after his journey and whether it had been comfortable and if he had been liking London so far, but they hadn’t discussed the specifics of his time in London. 

“If you were here so long before, why did you not come to see me sooner?”

He looked to the floor, a little ashamed. “As I mentioned yesterday, I did not expect to like you. I thought perhaps I might see some of London by myself or with Marcus before I had to be guided by where you might like to go.”

“I see. And in your exploration of London you visited Hyde Park three days before you came here,” Clarke said slowly, noting the way his head lifted sharply at the words.

But all he said was, “Yes.”

“Have you—did you—“ she faltered, part of her still nervous. 

“You’ve had the dreams,” he said suddenly, looking as if the air had left his lungs at once.

All Clarke could do was nod

“Oh, thank God. I thought it was just me,” he said.

“You’ve seen my face?” she asked, her voice cracking with hope. 

He nodded quickly, a warm smile growing on his face, and Clarke felt that warmth reflected in her chest.

“When?”

“After the ball.”

This broke some of the daze that had come over her, as Clarke tried to discern what might have led to his better understanding of her that particular evening. All she could remember now of the ball was the way he had held her as they danced.

Her confusion grew when he continued, “Though I admit I had been hoping it might be you. There were lots of people in the park, but well—you were the only one I noticed.”

Clarke sucked in a deep breath, her hands coming to her stomach. “You saw me there? Why did you not mention it? 

“I—“ His cheeks suddenly flushed. “I was embarrassed I suppose.”

“For what?”

“I felt as if I had been staring at you for some time, but you clearly hadn’t noticed me at all.”

“But then when you saw my face—when you knew it was me—you could have said something then.”

“I could not be sure that I was your match even if you were mine. And by that time I liked you enough that I had started to feel guilty about keeping my birth from you.”

Clarke frowned. “And you still thought I should judge you for that, even when you knew I was your soulmate?”

Bellamy lifted an arm in frustration. “I don’t know, I don’t understand soulmates! I told you they have never been a part of my life, and I didn’t know what to do when fate suddenly decided that I should have one. Besides, I don’t want to marry you because a dream told me you were my soulmate, I want to marry you because I love you!”

Clarke’s breath caught in her chest, where her heart was suddenly beating terribly fast. “Is that a proposal?”

He ducked his head and laughed suddenly, the tension leaving his shoulders. “Yes, I—it is not the proposal I had intended to give you, but yes.” When Clarke made no immediate reply, he continued, “You don’t have to respond right away—we still have time before you are supposed to give an answer.”

But Clarke had started shaking her head even before he had finished speaking. “My answer is yes. I wish to marry you too, Bellamy. Even when I thought my soulmate was another, I—I still wanted to marry you,” she finished with tears pricking at her eyes.

His smile grew wide, but she did not see it for long as she ran to cover the distance between them and embraced him, his hands immediately moving to clasp her around the waist. 

Now free of the worries that had been plaguing her the last few weeks Clarke finally felt at ease and Bellamy’s strong, warm embrace only comforted her further. She melted into his arms, resting her cheek against his soft wool jacket.

After a few moments, she started to feel more aware of him, the way his lips softly pressed into her hair and the scent of him. His hands were on her back, and she remembered so easily how those hands travelled across her body in her dreams—how easy it would be for them to follow those patterns now, dipping lower to cup her bottom or rising to fondle her breasts.

“Bellamy?” she whispered into his shoulder.

“Yes, my darling?”

Clarke smiled to herself at the endearment. “What happened in your dreams after the ball? After you saw my face?”

He cleared his throat. “They continued as before, except your face was plain,” he said carefully.

He seemed worried that she might be displeased, but she was not. Only, she realised that she might not get to enjoy the same. “But now that we both know who the other is…that will not happen, will it?”

“No. I have been trying to learn more about soulmate dreams and if what they say is true, I believe they will now cease for us both.” 

“Oh.” Clarke lifted her head and looked at him, frowning. 

He smiled, realising her conundrum. “Are you disappointed that you won’t have any more dreams now that you have seen me?” he asked.

“A little, I suppose,” she admitted. “But it is no matter,” she added decisively. “I am assuming that you will take over from the dreams in real life?” she finished, raising her eyebrow suggestively.

Bellamy’s smile widened. “Well, I certainly intend to. Though I had thought I might kiss you first.”

Clarke giggled. “Yes, I suppose that would be proper.”

“I am glad we are in agreement.” 

“A wife is supposed to agree with her husband in all things, is she not?” Clarke mused, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Perhaps. But I am certain that you will not make such a wife.”

“No, I will not,” Clarke said smiling. “I am glad we are also in agreement on that.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her, smirking. He then tilted her chin up and studied her face. “Such a smart mouth,” he observed. “I should very much like to kiss it.”

Clarke leaned towards him eagerly so that he could. 

After the erotic dreams she’d been having, Clarke was a little surprised to receive such an innocent first kiss. But it was sweet and tender and she was quite content with remaining relatively chaste within Bellamy’s embrace until his hands started to travel up and down her back before finally coming to rest on her bottom and squeezing.

Despite the many layers she wore, it was enough to remind Clarke of the way his hands moved in her dreams and her desire came back all at once. 

“Bellamy, I need you,” Clarke whined against his lips before sweeping her hands under his lapels and starting to push his jacket off his shoulders.

“Clarke,” he said a little warningly, putting his hands on her wrists to still her movement.

“My mother will not be home for at least another hour,” she explained, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Regardless. I cannot take your virtue before marriage.”

Clarke pouted. She didn't feel as if she had any virtue left to take even if she had not lain with a man yet. “But if we are to be married anyway—”

“There are some lines we cannot cross before we are wed,” he said firmly.

When she huffed, his firm expression softened and he moved a hand to tip her chin up, studying her face.

“Did you not touch yourself after the dreams?” he said.

Clarke bristled a little that he thought she might be so naive that she wouldn’t. “Yes, of course, I did,” she said, pouting again until he raised an eyebrow at her. “But it wasn’t the same. And, besides,” she continued, her eyes sparkling as a realisation came into mind, “you did promise to do me a service.”

His grin widened devilishly at that. “Indeed I did,” he agreed, his eyes dancing. “In that case, allow me to assist you, Miss Griffin.” Bellamy finished his sentence by placing a firm kiss on her lips before dropping to his knees in front of her, prompting a sharp inhale from Clarke at the sight.

Clarke gasped as he lifted her skirts and kissed the curve of flesh below her knee. She gasped again when his kisses started to trail up her thigh, but soon she giggled for it was difficult for them to hold up the volume of her skirts between them while Bellamy was otherwise occupied. 

This problem was soon rectified when Clarke took a seat on the settee allowing them to settle her skirts around her and easily remove her undergarments. It wasn’t long before Bellamy was kissing behind her knee once more, only this time he continued further up her thighs with his hands as well as his lips, and Clarke was holding her breath by the time he finally pressed a kiss to her centre. 

This was something Clarke had only experienced in her dreams. Compared to Clarke’s visions his initial kiss—which one might have described as chaste if it had not been delivered with Bellamy’s head between her legs—had her rethinking her expectations, but when he swiftly followed it by a strong lick of her folds Clarke threw her head back in pleasure. One of her hands soon moved from the cushion next to her to Bellamy’s head, her fingers threading through his dark curls to keep him firmly anchored in place so he did not stop—not that he showed any sign of letting up in his ministrations. With each moan he elicited from Clarke’s lips he seemed to be eager for more, using both his tongue and his fingers to make her cry out higher until finally, it seemed she could not take any more and fell apart on his tongue. 

His next caresses were gentle, tenderly running his hands over her legs before pulling her skirts back down to cover her modesty. Clarke smiled lightly, running her hand through his curls at first, but she was soon urging him to rise on his knees and leaning forward so she could kiss him.

The taste of herself on his lips was interesting, and she found she rather quite liked it, not to mention the somewhat ravenous way Bellamy was devouring her mouth now in comparison to the gentler way he had been kissing her before. 

She wanted to return the favour and began running her hands over his strong shoulders and down his back. He chuckled against her lips when she squeezed his behind, but that laughter died when her hands moved round to his front and cupped his length through his trousers.

“Clarke,” he groaned, beginning to move away. 

She immediately held a finger up to his lips. “You can’t say that we shouldn’t before marriage because I am quite certain that we shouldn’t have done _that_ either,” she said, with a significant glance down to her lap.

“No,” he said, clearly unable to help the amused curl of his lips. “But I would be far from a gentleman if I expected my future wife to do the same.”

Clarke grinned, very happy to hear him call her his ‘future wife’. “But what if I want to?” she asked with an innocent curl to her lips as she traced the line down the front of his waistcoat. 

Bellamy shook his head, but he wore a pained expression as if it cost him to resist, She was not surprised, for he seemed to be straining the buttons on the placket that fastened his trousers, and though she had no direct experience with the male body, she suspected that if he did not allow her to help him, he would have to take matters into his own hands (so to speak) with haste.

“Can’t I at least touch you?” she wondered, lowering her hand that was at the bottom of his waistcoat further so she could touch his length again, this time more deliberately. 

He whimpered, his eyes closing as he inhaled a sharp breath.

“Didn’t I like touching you in your dreams, Bellamy?”

His eyes flickered open at that before he admitted, “Yes,” in a gravelly tone that had Clarke clenching her thighs.

But she maintained her light, inquiring tone as she asked, “Then why don’t you believe that I will like it now?”

“Clarke,” he groaned, leaning forward to kiss her. “Please.”

She smiled against his lips as she unfastened his shirt before trailing her kisses lower so she could taste his gleaming, bronze skin. It took both of their efforts to unfasten his trousers and Clarke could not keep in her gasp when his length was revealed to her.

There was only a moment’s hesitation before Clarke reached out to touch him. Although she had no experience with men, she soon realised she knew how Bellamy liked being touched because her dreams had shown her what to do.

The realisation that her soulmate dreams had taught her so much and she decidedly did not need her mama to explain the ways of the marital bed made her pause the slow twist of her hand and giggle. 

Bellamy’s gaze sharpened on her, lips tilting in amusement. “I must say _that’s_ not a reaction I’ve had before.”

Clarke returned his smirk with one of her own, and then swiftly wiped it from his face by leaning down to lick the tip of his length—her smirk growing wider at the sound of Bellamy groaning. 

Despite all the dreams had taught her, there was a little more manoeuvring required in reality to get everything in the right place—taking him into her mouth was more awkward than she had imagined it and when she gagged Bellamy would not let her continue, pulling her up from her knees so that she was half in his lap and kissing her thoroughly. His hand immediately sought under her skirts again that it was all Clarke could do to remember that she was supposed to be seeing to his pleasure this time. 

It almost turned into a competition, both of them using their hands to pleasure the other and if that were the case Clarke supposed she technically lost, as she was the first to reach her peak, but for once she had no complaints to not be the victor.

A lazy smile came over her countenance as she recovered from their activities, and it only grew at the tender way Bellamy helped her fix her dishevelled appearance after he had cleaned himself up.

When he kissed her shoulder before pulling the sleeve of her dress back into its proper place, Clarke couldn’t help but wonder, “Have you changed your mind?” 

“About what?” he asked, kissing her neck.

“About what you think it is proper for us to do before marriage.”

Bellamy laughed, meeting her eyes with a chiding look. “No, I have not.”

When Clarke pouted he kissed her lips placatingly before saying, “But, I will apply for a special license.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading :)  
> Many thanks to [carrieeve](https://carrieeve.tumblr.com/) who made a lovely moodboard for this - you can find it on tumblr [here](https://useyourtelescope.tumblr.com/post/646041957116854272/when-youre-alone-with-me-bellarke-fanfiction).  
> You can learn more about donating for t100ficforblm or other resources at the [carrd here](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/).


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